Let Us Have Back Our Annual Prize!
M
Mark Heathcote
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Bedraggled skies - I'm sick and tired
Of your subterranean dark eyes,
You're like the lover who feels undesired.
Put-on silk gowns - show me some thighs.
For the ladies put-out a masculine chest
With white cotton clouds loosely vest.
And for me show evenings scarlet-red
With her on a bed - arms outspread.
But for god sake give our blurry eyes
Some heavenly skies - lest we all go mad
Let us have back our annual prize!
Lager-laden gardens sunburns-unclad.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş